Chemical Defect
by Midori Aoi
Summary: 'We are honor bound to grant you one wish. Know, however, that this wish shall not save you.' 'I understand.' They had granted her a chance to say goodbye, to whom, Irene refused to say. And she would take that with her to the grave. One-Shot. - Irene/Sherlock


_A/N: I seem to be on a bit of a tangent. To those of you reading Lights, Camera, Exposure – rest assured I'm working the kinks on the second chapter. (Yes, I am working on making it multi-chaptered.) This was originally planned to be a prologue and this still may end up being one – maybe, maybe not. So far, I'm still making this whole beta-test with LCE a WIP and I won't be posting up any more chapters or whatnots until I know I've got something concrete. For now, enjoy this quick little one-shot as a promise for much more to come. :)_

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**Chemical Defect**  
_by  
Midori Aoi_

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_Karachi_

She had been caught. Found. Exposed.

It had barely been 5 months… faster than she had expected to last, and they had her. All her insurance… her protection had disappeared, leaving only black linen to keep her safe. But with a name like hers, and a reputation like hers, and a mind like hers...there was no escaping. No amount of running could keep her safe, no amount of disguises would hide the filth in her hands and no amount of talking, thinking, and scheming could help her emerge alive and safe.

She was wanted.

She was wanted dead.

And there was no hope left, but the memory of the man who exposed her after she had ruthlessly played with his heart.

Irene Adler smiled bitterly to herself as they tugged her out of the back of a van and towards her execution. They had placed a bag over her face on the way from her room of captivity, very quickly announcing her verdict and then tossing her unceremoniously into the back of a dark and horrid vehicle.

_We are honor bound to grant you one wish. Know, however, that this wish shall not save you. _

_I understand. _

So she clutched to the small piece of plastic in her hands like a lifeline. They had granted her a chance to say goodbye, to whom, Irene refused to say. And she would take with her to the grave. She knew there was no chance he would ever appear in her life again. She had lost him the moment she brushed past him in the plane – _"Not you, junior. You're done." _– Only causing more vicious harm to his broken trust the more she continued to ensure her own future.

She had underestimated him. Irene Adler had underestimated Sherlock Holmes, because she thought he was too ignorant, blind, _virginal_ and weak to understand her true emotions. She had thought by tearing down at his attraction to her it would debilitate him – no… she had merely woken a giant. The man she had suddenly found herself completely and irrevocably _attracted_ to turned against her and used her feelings as a weapon against her. In the end she lost, and paid the hefty price of damaging the heart of the only person who understood her, challenged her… and made her _feel_ again.

Irene lost everything.

With a screech and a shove, Irene was ripped from a damaged seat and yanked to her feet. The removed the bag over her eyes and she looked about. Night time, save stationary lights and fire pits, it was dark and Irene took in her surroundings coolly.

Someone grabbed at her shoulder, Irene gave the foreign man a vicious and wild glare and he pulled away, cowed. She may have lost everything, but she still had her dignity and she would not be thrown to her knees. No. Irene will kneel, willingly and without fear. She had to.

This was her way of marking her last moments of life and Irene would be damned to allow herself to be forced to her last moments. Irene Adler will walk and she will do so with a proud glint in her eyes and a daring set in her jaw.

Defiant, Irene moved elegantly. Her black robes swished around her in the warm breeze her eyes following the man who marked her place to die. All around men called out cries of a language Irene cared not to learn. She was going to die anyway.

Someone took out a camera and began to film the execution, certainly to immortalize the moment and announce to the world the end of The Woman. As she stepped closer, it suddenly hit her. She was going to die. Here at a corner of the world without anyone knowing. _He _probably wouldn't know of her death for months, and if Mycroft was thorough he may never know of her demise.

Perhaps it was for the best he didn't know. Irene felt her chest tighten at the thought. Even near her own end, she still thought about how he would handle it. She hoped he'd believe that story at least, believe she was somewhere else alive and well, maybe even thinking of him.

"It's time," spoke her judge, his English clipped as well as his tone. Irene broke from her reverie and suddenly felt nothing. Numb, she nodded and knelt. Irene glanced up and spotted the weapon they charged to end her life. Its metal was bright under the light and if the situation were different she would regard the weapon with less than interest – but this weapon would only secure her death.

She glanced away quickly and turned on her phone. Trying to forget the dark feeling in her chest and heart and only focused on pulling up the information in her phone.

_S. Holmes_ her phone blinked at her and she pressed the name, her fingernails brittle and broken. The screen burned white, and her fingers pressed the keys with expert quickness, not wanting to prolong the inevitable any longer even though each breath she inhaled hit her with a sharp reminder that she was going to die.

_Goodbye, Mr. Holmes_

Irene then hit the send button, before her wits betrayed her. The sound of metal slicing the air cut at her nerves from behind her and suddenly Irene felt like weeping. Her eyes began to burn, and her chest could only feel as if it were doused with ice.

This is it.

It's all over.

Irene handed her phone to the man's outstretched hand. With its parting, Irene could feel a strange peace. She was done. It would be over in just seconds. Her final thoughts strayed to the face of Sherlock Holmes, the look in his eye when she had placed herself before him and how his speech slowed as she let her hand graze the skin of his palm. The fire and the inescapable attraction…

So, with a sense of finality and acceptance, Irene let her eyes shut close and she straightened her back and braced herself for the end.

[_Ohhh…_]

Irene's eyes shot open, her heart stopping in her chest and for a moment she swore she had imagined the sound. But the way some of the men around gazed in confusion for the source of the moan – _her_ moan – told her she hadn't imagined it.

Then she heard _him. _

"When I say run…" Irene's heart soared. "_Run_."

The metal of the sword swooshed into the air above her and around, one of the men let out a sharp cry of surprise and chaos burst around her. As people moved about her, Irene felt her lips stretch into a grin. Hope renewed and violent glee pushing adrenaline swiftly through her veins, Irene rushed to her feet and in one fluid motion of jabbing an elbow to the groin, toppled her judge and took his gun from its holster.

She swung around, her vision and eyes becoming hyper-observant and it was as if everything was happening slowly. Her fingers squeeze the trigger of the semi-automatic and watched as soldiers around her fell to the rain of bullets.

Again Irene turned and her eyes beheld her savior – once executioner – swing the sword and with magnificent grace slice the hand off a man reaching his gun to attack.

Striking blue eyes met her from across the field and Irene burst into a sprint towards his outstretched hand and without thinking, without breathing, without knowing, took Sherlock Holmes' hand – as it was certainly _his_ hand and _his _eyes. She grinned at him, her lips parted to reveal brilliant teeth and a joyous breath.

"Hello." She said.

"Run," Said he.

And without so much as a second thought, tightened her hold on his hand and the two turned and ran for their lives. The danger was clear and the threat of death imminent, and yet Irene could never exchange this moment for another – because _he_ was here and she was alive. A sudden explosion shook the earth beneath them, but Irene never stopped running.

"This way," Sherlock spoke, his smooth baritone making her stomach quake with fire and excitement. Irene nodded, determined. They turned and found a black vehicle parked by the side of a fence, he threw the door open and with a twinkle in his eye, ushered her in. Nearly jumping on her as they shut the door and the driver drove off at breakneck speed.

"Put these on." He spoke before quickly ripping the head wrap from his face. Black curls burst from under the black linen and the rest of his face gleamed in the rapid pass of streetlight and soft glow of the car's night lights. Irene knew there was no creature more beautiful than this man, at this moment.

He quickly dumped a pile of clothes on her lap and began to tug his own robes off his skin. In any other circumstance, Irene would throw a sexual innuendo to fluster him, but her own joy at seeing him again and his rescue drowned her words and she nodded.

"You're late," she said instead, quickly removing the top layer of her robes. He smirked at her as she tugged her arms free and some of Irene's more iconic attitude returned upon seeing the fierce blush in his cheeks when he saw she wore nothing beneath her robes.

"This isn't the first time you've seen me," Irene teased, fighting the urge to flaunt her skin at him.

"Nor the last, I'm afraid." Sherlock then said and his comment was so surprising Irene nearly paused to stare at him, yet one sharp swerve to the left only caused her to swing towards his lap. He caught her, hands grasping her naked flesh strongly, yet carefully before helping her straighten.

Irene pulled on a shirt and jacket before moving on to a pair of cargo pants and socks, but not before catching Sherlock's concerned stare.

"They hurt you." It was a statement and Irene glanced down at the bruises around her legs, waist and arms.

"I was their prisoner," She replied, matter-of-factly. "Not a guest. Physical torture was expected from them."

"Did they attack you?" Sherlock asked his tone as cold as ice. Irene caught the meaning behind his words and tried to hide her smile.

"I was able to intimidate one of them with a single glance, what does that tell you?" Irene asked, a feral grin spreading over her lips.

A smile unlike any she had ever seen on his face, brightened at her and her breath hitched at seeing his amusement and contentment and before Irene could stop herself, she had grasped at the collar of his button up and tugged him towards her.

The car gave a quick bounce, making her aim falter slightly, but the moment she felt her lips press against his nothing else seemed to interrupt.

He had stiffened under her mouth before his lips molded against hers. He tasted of dust, dirt and sweat, yet under the circumstances - Irene had never tasted anything sweeter and more satisfying.

Suddenly, the car jerked again and motion pulled them away.

"Thank you," Irene met his surprised gaze with a seductive wink and Sherlock quickly schooled his features into something less interested, yet his hand had landed on her lap and remained there for moments far too long than to be decent and the Irene could feel life course through her veins yet again.

"That's," He cleared his throat, "Fine. Yes. Fine."

"I'm starving," Irene suddenly announced her eyes bright even in the darkness. "Let's have dinner." Sherlock paused as he looked at her, Irene waited for him to ignore the topic as per usual when his lips tightened into a thin line for a short moment – as if he were attempted to hold back another eye blinding grin.

"What would you like?" Sherlock inquired, his lips turning up in a knowing smirk. Filled again with happiness, relief, joy, lust and complete contentment Irene grabbed his collar again.

"You, Mr. Holmes, I'll have you." Irene said and pressed herself against Sherlock Holmes, molding her lips against his and allowing his second bout of surprise to allow her tongue deep into his mouth, making sure it would be a sensation he should never forget and this time Sherlock's hands did more than rest on her waist and only further welcomed her into his embrace.

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_Fin_


End file.
